


Last Strike of Moonlight

by LeftToTheDark



Category: Superman - All Media Types, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, During 'Schooled', Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Not Beta Read, S1E5, Self-Acceptance, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:56:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29889750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeftToTheDark/pseuds/LeftToTheDark
Summary: Conner rethinks everything.
Relationships: Clark Kent & Kon-El | Conner Kent
Comments: 8
Kudos: 12





	Last Strike of Moonlight

At night, Metropolis’s glow differs from the shadows which consumed ancient capitals; the mystical city of Athens or the stone towers of Pompeii. The embedded paintings of these cities drag themselves to the forefront of Conner’s mind. Their muted colours contrast against the lively tones of urban towns. Such comparisons are possible because of the learning schemes back in the lab. The rapid absorption of knowledge given to Conner was in preparation for his launch as a new symbol of hope. Such information had been designed to help him understand why civilisations rise and the inherent cause of their fall. To stop others from repeating the mistakes of the past. But unlike those ancient cities left to ruin, Metropolis stands high with its stainless-steel columns and buildings which reach further into the sky. Even the bulbs attached to streetlamps create a concentrated hub of cosy yellow.

The shade reminds Conner of his first time watching the sunrise; gold hues splattered across new-dawn blue. The sublime sight burnt into his irises. And with the protection of the layered atmosphere, Connor felt the filtered warmth prick his skin before rising in temperature. It resulted in a heatwave, but it did not bother him. He continued to bask beneath it as others turned on the air conditioning or placed a small bag of ice on overheating foreheads. _It’s your Kryptonian blood_ , said Robin, sunglasses poorly shielding his eyes and his identity. And he’s right. This ability stems from the slice of DNA within him. From the man Conner is a copy.

A freezing wave of disgust washes over him.

After all, Conner was made without the consent of Superman.

The artificial light from lamps emits no heat despite filling every street and dangling in parks. There is only the cold that reddens his cheeks, reminding him of the human blood circling within. He wonders what other bodily vulnerabilities stem from Luthor’s DNA. Maybe a weakness of the mind? Where his temperament is more prone to anger? To have rage claw his stomach. But he knows this to be false. That there is no weakness from his humanity. That he himself is to blame. He knows his explosive reactions towards the people who try and help him will soon drive them away – Batman has attempted to rein in his emotions; Black Canary tried to make him speak; M'gann wished for him to find comfort with friends. In the same way Superman had rejected Conner, he had rejected all efforts of help from the ones who took him in. How long will they tolerate him? Kick him to the curb when his anger becomes too much. Or results in a dire accident.

Today might be that day.

Conner had come to The City of Tomorrow for one thing – to speak with Superman for what he perceives to be the last time and, as expected, it did not turn out well. It had started with an incident on the bridge; a car and school bus dangling over the edge. Conner did his part by lifting the car and placing it to safety. Superman had taken over the rescue for the bus then proceeded to scold Conner for his lack of insight.

“We don't yet know the limits of your powers,” Superman said, tone void of emotions and unreachable. However, his eyes held a glint of explicit disgust and his lips curled down. The frown was so microscopic that Conner almost missed it.

His heart broke at the sight, knowing he is forever demonised for things he cannot help. Although, this did not stop him from asking, “Well, maybe you could, you know, help me figure that out.”

The Man of Steel – always so sure in his answers – hesitated and looked away before dealing the final blow. “Batman's got that covered,” the coward said, refusing to meet his gaze and shifting on his feet.

 _Look at me_ , Conner wished to shout. He would not care for onlookers or the level of his voice. Only the heavy pit within his chest mattered at that moment. _Look at me and tell me I am nothing._ Conner could not do it. His mouth dried with the anguish that hardened on teeth, and eyes began to glaze with steady streams of water. Conner had received his answer. Found out his worth.

Who is he now?

This is the question that dominates every thought. It will bind to him while he sleeps or drags itself as he completes his daily routines. It will haunt him as he drifts in search of the definitive answer. Despite this, Conner is sure of one thing; he is lost, alone, and no identity to call his own. He lifts his stare from the ant-like-people to the moon. Sitting on the Daily Planet globe allows Conner a better view of the white rock as it hangs above. He had seen it multiple times by now, but nothing can beat the first time. The day he escaped from the lab. He had only seen images of the moon inserted into him through learning schemes, but nothing readied him for the awe caused by the sight. Since then, Conner would find himself sat by a window at night. One of the only windows in Mount Justice.

There was one particular night where a book was planted on his usual seat.

 _The Man in the Moon_ , it read, embossed letters swirling.

Conner was not surprised someone found his habit. The number of cameras installed allowed no secrets, but there was no clue to whoever placed this book. No scent attached or person in sight. This did not stop him from opening the hardback book – the spine not broken in. It was a children’s book; a story of a man living in the moon. Conner snorted at the nursery rhyme within the book. _The man in the moon comes tumbling down_ , he recalls, _and asked his way to Norwich._ The absurdity of the rhyme lifted Conner’s mood. Even now, his heart feels a little lighter. He knows this to be a silly thing – understands there is no man in the moon – but the idea that someone else may sympathise with his loneliness brings him unrefined joy.

What will Luthor think of him?

Conner blinks. _Luthor?_ Maybe that man can help? He is the one who made Conner. Maybe he can be the one who recognises this pain? The history between Superman and Luthor causes him to pause breathing before it resumes with a deep inhale. There is so much bad blood that it could fill parts of the Pacific sea. Going to Luthor will solidify Superman’s thoughts on Conner. That he is a spy, or someone set out to destroy him. How absurd. Conner is neither. He is something greater. Something just he can be. Yes, Conner is…

 _…a person_ , he thinks, hot hands resting on chilly metal. _Made against my will. I did not ask to be created. Or choose my creators. I am no monster. No ordinary man. No spy or designated replacer._

Conner continues to stare unblinking at the moon, the flutter beneath his ribs gaining strength.

_I am no clone. No pretender. No Kent._

_I am Conner._

_I am myself._

Conner stands and begins to walk towards the edge of the globe. He ignores the weird rush of air beneath his feet and continues as no shoes against metal can be heard. He knows where he must go. To the man who started it all. Superman’s opinion no longer matters. Not when he makes everything very clear.

So onwards he goes.

And only then, he realises he is flying beneath the moon.

**Author's Note:**

> Thought that I would start making one-shots. Not try and write a full story. Hope you guys like this. Would love to hear your opinions.


End file.
